


all my friends will know that it's about me.

by granteares



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pet Names, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 16:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6762088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/granteares/pseuds/granteares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When "who can come up with the worst pet name" wars don't exactly go as planned...</p><p>Or, that time Enjolras accidentally outed his secret relationship with Grantaire and no one was surprised.</p><p>Or, what happens when an anon on tumblr asks me for my headcanons on e/R + pet names.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all my friends will know that it's about me.

It had, at first, been Enjolras’ idea to start the stupid “pet name wars” because he had been bored and Grantaire had, for some bizarre reason (boredom also), decided to start calling him stupid things like “pookie-bear” and “pudding-pop” out of nowhere and Enjolras _knew_ he could out-do him at the weird pet names.

As it very quickly turned out, Enjolras was pretty bad at the weird pet names, and Grantaire wasn’t sure where he came up with what the ones that he did. (“Seriously, Enjolras? Did you just call me your ‘snuggle sausage’? I don’t even know how to respond to that. It is _so awful be more conscious of innuendos please_.”)

Enjolras said it must be Grantaire’s creative talent, which, okay, was something that Enjolras severely lacked. So usually, Grantaire came out winning, and Enjolras admitted the rare defeat. Sometimes, though, Grantaire would take pity on just how terrible Enjolras’ pet name skills were, and let him win by default. It was really fun trying to one-up each other. It was even more fun when Grantaire could dangle an accomplishment over Enjolras’ head.

He swore he loved him, though. He just didn’t get to show off too often.

Pet name wars only happened in private – which Grantaire, on one hand, thought was a crying shame, but on the other hand knew was necessary because everything about their relationship was still private. They had both agreed on their first date – out of town, to avoid running into any of their friends – that neither of them really wanted to deal with the “I told you so”s yet, and that Grantaire was _pretty sure_ there were at least two bets going on about them and really, it wasn’t fair they couldn’t make money off of their own inevitable relationship, so their friends could wait. (“Inevitable?” Enjolras had questioned, golden eyebrows raised. “Well, yeah,” Grantaire had responded, “Everyone knows I’ve had a massive crush on you for months, Captain Oblivious. They all said the sexual tension was bound to break eventually. I told them there was no way that you liked me back. I mean. Look at me.” Enjolras hadn’t liked being called oblivious, but he _so was_. He also hadn’t liked that Grantaire doubted himself. Or that Grantaire might actually be in on the bet himself and unwilling to admit it – Enjolras couldn’t quite tell. But Grantaire liked keeping Enjolras on his toes.)

Four months later, and Grantaire was trying to push Enjolras in the direction of “hey, maybe we should tell our friends, that, y’know, we don’t hate each other”.

In public, though, they fought like nothing had changed. It was barely for the sake of keeping up appearances: something about the atmosphere of those meetings at the Musain made Grantaire more argumentative than usual, and Enjolras made it too easy to destroy his speeches sometimes. The only difference was that Enjolras smiled sometimes while his arguments were being destroyed. When Grantaire had asked why one night, Enjolras had told him that he appreciated the way Grantaire helped him to build stronger cases that didn’t lack holes. Grantaire had shrugged his shoulders and told him it was no problem, any time.

# # #

They were having a particularly intense debate tonight, which may have had something to do with the real fight they’d had at Grantaire’s apartment before coming to the meeting. Grantaire was barely even aware of what the debate was about at this point; he was just picking apart everything Enjolras was saying because he _could_ , and Enjolras was very clearly in the zone himself, speaking whatever came to mind. Combeferre was standing by and looked just about ready to step in between the two of them and change the subject before a real fight ensued, because they all knew it wouldn’t be the first time Enjolras shoved Grantaire or poked him a little too hard in the chest.

“Okay, _but_ ,” Grantaire was starting to say, but Enjolras shook his head enthusiastically – blonde curls bouncing way too adorably on his skull – and lifted a hand to cut him off.

“No, no. You’re so – you have _no idea_ what you’re _talking about_ , sugarbuns –”

Grantaire didn’t think he had ever seen Enjolras shut himself up so quickly.

Grantaire also didn’t think _he_ had personally ever dropped an argument with Enjolras so quickly.

 _Sugarbuns_.

Well, then.

Enjolras looked significantly paler than usual.

No one was talking in the room. Which was unusual, because they were a particularly chatty group and moments where _everyone was completely silent_ were extremely rare.

Was anyone even breathing? Grantaire thought he wasn’t, personally. This wasn’t exactly how he had pictured outing their relationship to their friends: being called _sugarbuns_ (even if his buns _were_ pretty sweet).

Grantaire couldn’t have said for sure how long the silence stretched on for, only that it was possibly the most awkward situation in his life – and there were a lot of other awkward situations contending for that spot but, no, this definitely topped everything else.

Enjolras looked like he wanted so badly to disappear through the floorboards beneath him. His mouth was gaping now, like he was trying but failing to come up with some perfectly reasonable excuse for calling Grantaire “sugarbuns” that didn’t involve telling their friends they had secretly been dating for four months. Grantaire would be really impressed if he came up with something.

Combeferre was the first one to break the silence.

At first, all Grantaire heard was an intake of breath, and felt _so grateful_ because surely Combeferre – smart, genius, rational, logical Combeferre – would have something profound to say and make this situation even the littlest bit better. But Grantaire took his compliments about Combeferre away quickly when the man practically doubled over, God-as-his-witness _giggling_ , fingers pressed against the rim of his glasses to keep them from dropping to the floor as he laughed hysterically. Grantaire really didn’t understand what was _so goddamn funny about this at all_.

The next thing that happened was a triumphant shout from Courfeyrac: “ _I CALLED IT, FUCKERS!_ ”

Enjolras’ head whipped in the man’s direction, fire in his blue eyes, but Courfeyrac only continued to look smug.

Grantaire still felt like he had no idea what was going on.

The third thing that happened was Jehan calling calmly to Bossuet – who was sitting across the room from them – and saying: “Your luck really is terrible, my friend. Fork up that fifty dollars. I told you.”

“So you guys _were_ betting on us.” Enjolras sounded dumb-founded, betrayed, almost.

Combeferre had quieted down, gasping for air, but now it was Grantaire’s turn to start laughing, covering his face with his hands to avoid the fire-eyed look Enjolras was sure to give him, because maybe this was actually pretty hilarious after all.

When he could finally compose himself, he lifted his face away, and Enjolras was only staring at him with a face as dumb-founded as his voice had sounded a moment ago.

“Oh God. Oh God, I’m sorry. But – Okay. Okay, yeah, this is – this is fucking gold,” Grantaire said between breaths. “I can’t believe you did that, you big dork!”

“Shut up!” Enjolras said – but there was no anger to be found in voice nor face; his tone was warm and a smile was twitching on his lips. Then, amazingly, he laughed too.

“Sure thing, _sugarbuns_ ,” Grantaire teased.

“Oh my God. Stop,” Jehan said, pleadingly. “Stop being gross and _give us details_.” There was a mischievous smirk on their face. “How long have you been hiding this from us?”

“Four months,” Enjolras said simply.

Courfeyrac made a sound like a wounded animal – or, a betrayed best friend. “You hid this from us for _four months_?”

“Yes?” Enjolras’ tone was the slightest bit more uncertain.

“I am offended you would lie to _me_ , of all people, for _so long_.”

“We – We both agreed it would be best.”

“Mostly,” Grantaire volunteered, “I didn’t want to tell you assholes so you could profit off the fact that Enjolras and I are having hot, amazing _sex_ now.” And, yeah, maybe he only said that to watch the way Enjolras’ face turned a shade of red strikingly similar to that of a tomato, but it was worth getting yelled at later, as Bahorel gave a wolf whistle from his corner and Marius looked like he had been personally attacked by such a scandalous statement.

“I just lost fifty dollars. I’m not profiting,” Bossuet grumbled, glancing forlornly at the bills Jehan was tucking into their wallet now.

“Well, I made two hundred and fifteen dollars, overall, so I’m pretty happy,” Jehan said, grinning evilly. “In fact, Grantaire, I think I have you down for twenty yourself –”

“You said you weren’t in on any bets!” Enjolras said, sounding legitimately betrayed this time.

“I wasn’t…” Grantaire argued. “I mean – not like that – I –”

“He was _so_ pessimistic about you never loving him back,” Jehan waved dismissively. “This was at least six months ago, so, no worries, Enj. Your lover didn’t bet on you behind your back. But, Taire?” They held their hand out expectantly. Grantaire could only groan, pull out a twenty, and place it in Jehan’s palm. “Thank you. And, you know, I’m really happy for you both.” The smile on their face was genuine.

“Yeah, honestly,” Courfeyrac chimed in with a dramatic roll of the eyes. Then, he lifted his beer glass in the air. “To Enjolras and Grantaire!”

The friends all lifted their respective drinks in their air, repeating Courfeyrac’s cheer – except for the couple themselves. Grantaire stepped in front of his boyfriend, slung an arm around his waist, and pulled him in for an admittedly over-dramatic kiss that soon left all their friends either wolf whistling some more or making fake gagging sounds.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, a few things:  
> 1) This is unbeta-ed because I don't have any beta-ing buddies. I am sorry if there are any ugly mistakes and please feel free to point them out so I can fix them! I read it a few times over but as you know, it always takes another set of eyes.  
> 2) This fic is the result of [this post](http://granteares.tumblr.com/post/143899003035/ok-could-u-pretty-please-write-a-prompt-thingyhcs) where I was asked about e/R + pet name headcanons and what would happen if Les Amis found out they were dating bc of a pet name. I wanted to write a fic too instead of just posting a list!!  
> 3) Kudos and comments are A+ like honestly let me know how I'm doing bc I'm nervous over here.  
> 4) Always feel free to hmu on tumblr for anything at all bc I love talking to everyone in the Les Mis fandom about everything.  
> 5) The Airborne Toxic Event are one of the best bands ever and both of my fics' titles are from their songs. Listen to them. This one is from "Elizabeth".
> 
> P.S. I'm hoping to get a chapter-ed fic up sooner than later... I have 2 WIPs saved in Word rn?? I'm not sure which I'll post up first, but I'm trying to get in good places with both of them so I can try to keep a regular posting schedule and not disappoint!


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